


Supports

by eerian_sadow



Series: Nobilius [31]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Noble AU, new experiences, roddy has a great but unexpected idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24243130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: Rodimus takes Drift to a fancy dinner in Tarn. While they're there, he has an idea that isinspired.
Series: Nobilius [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/861736
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Supports

**Author's Note:**

> Chronologically, this takes place about a year after "Two Racers Meet In A Bar".

“Huh. Didn't think I'd see a place like this in Tarn.” Drift stared up at the large, well polished facade of the restaurant Rodimus had led him to. It looked out of place in the grime of the city, and that probably meant it was well outside the price range of most of the people who lived there. 

“It's not very old,” the red mech replied. “They built it last vorn and the ambassador brought me right after. They specialize in offworld inspired cuisine.”

“What does that even mean?” 

“It's, you know, exotic stuff. Food we can eat, but modeled on what people on other worlds eat. It's fun!”

“Sometimes you and I define fun very differently.”

“Oh, please. You had just as much air surfing with those shuttles over the Rust Sea as I did.” Rodimus grinned and looped his arm through the other mech’s. “And you loved those candied electro-toads, don’t even try to hide it.”

“The toads were good,” Drift agreed carefully. “I’m just saying that sometimes you think things are fun when I’m busy trying to keep you from getting your face chewed off. Like with those cougaraiders in the Altihex Zoo.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t my best idea.” Rodimus reached up with his free hand and rubbed an almost invisible scar on his chest. “But in my defense, the keeper said they were perfectly tame.”

“I am still never letting you go into a zoo again.” The white mech frowned. “It was bad enough explaining what happened to your sire the first time.”

“At least you didn’t get Optimus’ disappointed face that day. Or Prowl’s. He barely knows me and that still felt like getting scolded by my favorite uncle or something.”

Drift could imagine the exact expression on Prowl’s face that would make Rodimus feel like that. “You deserved it that time, though maybe they could have waited until you were out of the hospital.”

“Exactly!” Rodimus started walked up the stairs that led into the restaurant. “But this won’t be anything like that. You’ll like it, I promise.”

“Rodimus.” Drift followed with a sigh. “You said that about the imported clay finish treatment, and I’m pretty sure I’m still washing that out of my transformation seams.”

“This isn’t like that, either! Remember the candied toads!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Drift squirmed in his seat as the waiter left with their orders. It was soft, overly plush if he was honest with himself, and covered in some kind of organic fiber that constantly made him slide toward one edge of the chair or another. It was uncomfortable, and he didn’t know how Roddy was staying in place on his so well.

“You okay over there?” The red mech gave him a concerned look. “It's not too late to go somewhere else, if you want to. I can tell them to cancel the order.”

“No, it’s not that.” He felt out of place in this fancy restaurant, but he was getting used to that feeling as he and Rodimus traveled the world. “I mean, maybe a little bit that. You’re spending more on this one meal than I made in a meta-cycle at the mine. But mostly it’s this stupid chair. How do you sit on this?”

“Hm?” Rodimus leaned over so that he could look under the table. He was grinning when he sat back up. “Just scoot all the way against the back and fold your legs up on the chair. These were made for mechs my sire’s size and bigger, not sleek little racers.”

“Oh. I’m so used to being the smallest mech in the room that I’m just used to perching on the edge of the chair like a hatchling.” Drift gave his friend a sheepish smile and followed his instructions. With more of his weight on the cushion, he felt immediately more stable. “Thanks. But what do we do if we get stuff on the chair?”

Rodimus shrugged. “If it can’t be washed off, and it probably can because this stuff is all synthetic and we _are_ in Tarn, then I’ll just pay for it. If it’s my fault they get ruined, then it comes out of my allowance.”

Drift wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Rodimus’ casual feelings about ruining someone else’s furniture, but he supposed it was too late to worry about it now. “Yeah, okay. Can we at least ask them to give the old ones to a shelter or something if we have to replace them?”

“Well, yeah.” Rodimus blinked as if he hadn’t even thought of that, then nodded. “Yeah! In fact, we should buy new chairs for the shelter too! The really sturdy kind like they have at the university, that last forever so they don’t have to replace them all the time. What else would they need?”

The white mech stared at his friend, surprised by his instant enthusiasm. Sentinel Prime’s entire family was a different breed of noble than ruled most every other part of Cybertron, but he still hadn’t expected Roddy to want to help a bunch of homeless mechs in Tarn. No one had ever wanted to help any of them in Rodion, after all. “Um, blankets, cleaning solvents, energon. Toys for the hatchlings. Literature files.”

“Wait, hatchlings? There are newsparks in the shelters?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t there be? They don’t have homes, any more than their parents.”

“I thought there were assistance programs and foster care for times like that.”

Drift shook his head. “Not in Tarn. And other city-states might have them, but believe me when I say that it’s better to be homeless.”

Rodimus looked down at the table and stared at the surface for several long moments. “In Iacon, we just give them houses and a basic income until they can find a job. I never realized _we_ were the exception.”

“Roddy, what’s happening in Iacon is good. Please don’t think it’s not. Other leaders can and will learn from what your family is doing right now.” Drift gave the noble a small smile. “Frag, if we had known we could get a house in Iacon back before I ended up as a gladiator, I would have brought my brother and we probably would never have met.”

“Yeah, but he might still be alive then, too.”

“Yeah, he might. But I wouldn’t have my best friend now.”

“And then I would have died in Altihex trying to pet a cougaraider.” Rodimus gave him a weak smile. “Okay, I get your point. So, we want to get blankets, toys, literature files, cleaning supplies. What else?”

“Well, I would have given up my right hand to have a few shanix I could use to buy something I wanted for myself back then.”

“Glad you didn’t.” The noble drummed his fingers on the tabletop briefly. “What about berths? Nice berths, not rickety cots. If we bought them, can the shelter maintain them?”

“Maybe. That would be better to ask the staff about.” Drift thought for a moment. “Maybe the kind that are more like a mattress on a frame with a plug, instead of the wireless kind you like so much. A frame or mattress is easier to replace if it gets damaged.”

“I like the way you’re thinking, Drift!” Rodimus smiled brightly again. “When we’re done eating, let’s look up the smallest shelters in town. Not the ones the Church runs, because those always have money, but the ones that are probably overfilled and understaffed. I want to really help, not just make some kind of token gift.”

“There’s one not too far from here,” the white mech told him. “I stayed there after my brother… Well, on my way to Kaon. It was clean and dry, but that was about all I could say for it.”

“We’ll start there, then.” Rodimus stretched a hand across the oversized table and touched the tips of Drift’s fingers. “Maybe even start a memorial fund for them, so more people can get out like you did.”

“Even you don’t have enough money to get everyone off the street, Roddy.” 

“No, but if we get one person off the street, they get to go live life the way the rest of us do. And maybe do something that helps someone else later.” The red mech smiled again. “If I can use my money to help even one person, I should, right?”

“Right.” 

“Then I’m going to. And I’m going to name it after your brother, because I don’t think you’d be the mech you are without him.”

“Gasket,” Drift choked on his brother’s name, even after so long, “Would have loved that. Frag, he probably would have loved you, after this. You’d never get rid of him.”

“From the way you talk about him, probably not.” Rodimus grinned. “It’s a sacrifice i would be willing to make.”

Their waiter chose that moment to return with their food. He set the plates down quickly in front of each mech, gave them a shallow bow and rushed away again with a quick, “Enjoy your meal, gentlemechs.” 

Drift peered down at the entree in front of him and looked it over carefully. The menu had claimed it was dynametal duck, though from the oily juices running through the skin, it was only the shell of the duck stuffed with energon and other mech-edible liquids. It had seemed like the safest option when they ordered, an impression that was reinforced when he looked across the table at Rodimus’ plate.

What he had thought was just a pile of cables was _moving_. 

“Rodimus, what the frag is that?” His earlier concerns were forgotten as his friend reached into the mass of wiggling cables--cyber leeches and fiber optic worms, coated in a blood-energon pink sauce, now that he was really looking--and picked up several with his fingers.

The red mech paused with the wriggling worms halfway to his mouth. “Bloodworms. Didn’t you read the menu?”

“I read the menu! It didn’t say they were still alive!” 

“Well, they start to decompose really quickly after they die, so they don’t have flavor or nutrients for long then. It’s weird, but they’re really good.” Rodimus extended his fingers, still holding the worms, toward the white mech. “Want to try?”

“No. definitely no. I’ll stick with my nice, dead duck.” The cost of the meal still bothered him a little, but at least his food wasn’t moving. “And you are _not_ keeping any leftovers this time.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want them in my subspace while we were at the shelter, either. I don’t know how to clean sauce out of there if they leak.”


End file.
